42. Emil
EMIL
The conference room is silent except for the sound of my fingers drumming against the polished mahogany table. My captains sit around me, their expressions carefully neutral, waiting for me to speak. Luca stands near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes watchful.
I'm done waiting. Done being patient while some faceless shooter takes potshots at my future wife. Done letting this threat hang over us like a sword waiting to drop.
"Two weeks," I say, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "I'm getting married in two weeks, and I want this resolved before then."
The captains exchange glances. Dmitri, my oldest captain with silver threading through his dark hair, clears his throat. "Pakhan, we've been working every angle. We've questioned everyone who might have a grudge and followed up on every lead."
"And yet the shooter is still out there." I lean forward, my gaze moving from face to face. "Which tells me you're not working hard enough."
Another captain shifts in his seat. He's younger, ambitious, and always eager to prove himself. "We've narrowed down the list of suspects. And there's always the possibility it's someone from outside trying to make a move."
"I don't want possibilities," I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. "I want names. I want locations. I want the person responsible in front of me so I can deal with them personally."
The room goes even quieter. They all know what "deal with them personally" means. They've seen the results of my personal attention before.
"Double your efforts," I continue, sitting back in my chair. "Put more men on the street. Lean on your informants harder. Offer rewards for information. I don't care what it takes. Find them."
"Yes, Pakhan," they chorus.
"And make it clear to everyone in our organization and beyond that anyone who harms Kiera Walker answers to me directly." I let that sink in for a moment. "No intermediaries. No negotiations. Me."
A captain nods slowly. "That will send a strong message."
"Good. Because I want everyone to understand exactly what happens when someone threatens what's mine." I stand, signaling the meeting is over. "Don't disappoint me."
The captains file out quickly, their faces grim with determination. Or maybe fear. Probably both. Luca remains behind, closing the door after the last man leaves.
"You think they'll find the shooter in time?" he asks.
"They'd better." I move to the window, looking out over the estate grounds. The manicured lawns stretch out in the afternoon sunlight, peaceful and serene. A complete contrast to the violence brewing beneath the surface. "Because if they don't and something happens at the wedding…"
I don't finish the sentence. I don't need to.
Luca knows me well enough to understand the implications.
He nods and follows me out of the conference room.
We walk through the hallways of the estate, past armed guards stationed at regular intervals.
The security has been increased since the shooting at the club. I'm not taking any chances.
When I reach Kiera's bedroom, I knock once and then open the door without waiting for a response. It's my house. My rules.
The sight that greets me makes every thought in my head evaporate.
Kiera is standing near the bathroom door, fresh from the shower.
Her short red hair is damp and tousled, water droplets clinging to the strands.
She's wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around her body, the fabric barely covering her from chest to mid-thigh.
Her skin is flushed pink from the hot water, and I can see the curve of her breasts where the towel is tucked in at the top.
My body responds immediately. Heat floods through me, pooling low in my gut.
My cock hardens, pressing against my zipper.
Every instinct I have screams at me to cross the room, rip that towel away, and throw her onto the bed.
My body and mind want me to claim her, mark her, and make her forget about everything except the feel of me inside her.
But then I see her face. She's pale beneath the flush from the shower. Her blue eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, and there's a tightness around her mouth that speaks of lingering nausea. The irritation in her expression is clear as she glares at me.
"Do you ever knock and wait for an answer?" she snaps.
"No." I force myself to stay where I am, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I threw up everything I've eaten for the past week." She moves to her dresser and pulls out clothes, keeping the towel wrapped tightly around herself. "What do you want, Emil?"
"I wanted to check on you."
"Well, you've checked. I'm fine. You can go now."
The dismissal in her tone grates on me, but I ignore it. "You're not fine. You were sick last night."
"Wedding planning will do that to a person." She turns her back to me, clutching her clothes to her chest. "Especially when they're being forced into it."
The words hit hard. I knew she was resistant, knew she didn't want this marriage. But hearing her say it so bluntly, seeing the exhaustion and resentment in her face, makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
"Kiera…"
"I'm going to Kaleb's house for dinner tonight," she interrupts, her voice firm. "Unless I'm to remain a prisoner here."
The challenge in her words is clear. She's testing me, pushing to see how far my control extends. Part of me wants to forbid it, to keep her here where I can protect her and know she's safe.
But family is everything. I know that better than most. And despite everything, despite the danger and the forced marriage and the violence she's witnessed, I can't deny her the chance to be with her siblings.
"Fine," I say after a long moment. "But Luca and I are going with you."
Her eyes flash with anger. "I don't need babysitters."
"You have people trying to kill you. You absolutely need babysitters." I cross my arms over my chest, making it clear this isn't negotiable. "We go with you, or you don't go at all."
"That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair, Kiera. You should know that by now." I turn toward the door, not wanting to deal with her anger right now. Not when my body is still humming with want and my control is hanging by a thread. "Be ready at six."
I leave before she can argue further, closing the door behind me with more force than necessary.
Luca is waiting in the hallway, his expression carefully neutral. "That went well."
"Shut up."
He follows me back toward my office, his footsteps quiet on the marble floors. "You know she's going to fight you every step of the way."
"I know."
"And you're still going through with the wedding."
"Yes." I don't elaborate or explain that I can't let her go now, that the thought of her leaving makes something dark and possessive rise up in me. That I want her in a way I've never wanted anything before.
Luca doesn't push. He just nods and leaves me to my thoughts.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of phone calls and paperwork, but my mind keeps drifting back to Kiera and the way she looked in that towel. And then there was the exhaustion in her eyes and the challenge in her voice.
At six o'clock, I'm waiting in the foyer when she comes down the stairs.
She's wearing dark jeans and a soft blue sweater that brings out the color of her eyes.
Her hair is dry now, styled in that tousled way that makes me want to run my fingers through it.
She's put on makeup, just enough to hide the shadows under her eyes.
She looks beautiful. And miserable.
"Ready?" I ask.
"As I'll ever be." She doesn't look at me as she walks past, heading for the door.
Luca is already waiting by the SUV, the engine running. He opens the back door for Kiera, and she slides in without a word. I take the seat beside her while Luca gets behind the wheel.
The drive to Kaleb's house takes twenty minutes. Kiera stares out the window the entire time, her body angled away from me. The silence is heavy and oppressive. I want to say something, to bridge the gap that's opened between us, but I don't know what words would make a difference.
Kaleb's house is a modest two-story in a quiet neighborhood. Warm light glows from the windows, and I can see movement inside. A normal home. A normal life. Everything Kiera had before I crashed into her world.
We park on the street, and Luca does a quick scan of the area before nodding. "Clear."
Kiera is out of the SUV before I can say anything, hurrying up the walkway to the front door. It opens before she reaches it, and Kaleb appears, his face lighting up when he sees her.
"Kiera!" He pulls her into a hug, and I see her body relax for the first time all day. "I'm so glad you could make it."
"Thanks for inviting me." She pulls back, smiling. Then her expression becomes more guarded as she glances back at me and Luca. "I hope you don't mind that I brought… company."
Kaleb's gaze moves to us, and I see the wariness in his eyes. But he's too polite to say anything. "Of course not. Come in, all of you."
The house is warm and welcoming inside. Comfortable furniture, family photos on the walls, and the smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Mark appears from the dining room, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
"Dinner's almost ready," he says, smiling at Kiera. Then he sees me and Luca, and his smile becomes more strained. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."
Luca and I take seats in the living room while Kiera follows her brother and Mark into the kitchen. I can hear their voices, the easy conversation of family. Luca sits quietly beside me, his eyes constantly moving, assessing potential threats even in this domestic setting.
When dinner is ready, we all gather around the dining room table. The meal is simple but well-prepared—roasted chicken, vegetables, and fresh bread. Mark and Kaleb are gracious hosts, keeping the conversation flowing despite the obvious tension.
I stay mostly quiet, letting Kiera visit with her brother and his husband. This is what she needs. What she deserves. A chance to be normal, to be with family and forget for a few hours about our upcoming wedding and the shooter still on the loose.
Watching her laugh at something Kaleb says, seeing the genuine affection between them, makes that strange tightness return to my chest. This is what family looks like. This is what love looks like. Not the cold, calculating alliances of my world, but real connection. Real care.
"So," Kaleb says, his eyes bright with excitement. "Mark and I have some news."
Kiera leans forward, her face eager. "What is it?"
"We've been going through the process to adopt a child," Mark explains. "It's been a long road, lots of paperwork and interviews and home visits."
"And we just got the news today," Kaleb continues, reaching over to take Mark's hand. "We've been approved. We're officially on the waiting list for a child."
Kiera's face transforms. Pure, unfiltered joy spreads across her features, making her eyes shine and her smile widen. "Oh, my God! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you!"
She jumps up from her chair and rushes around the table to hug both of them. The three of them embrace, laughing and crying at the same time. It's a moment of perfect happiness untainted by violence, fear, or obligation.
And watching it, something in my chest tightens so hard, it almost hurts.
This is what she should have. This kind of joy. This kind of future. Not a forced marriage to a man who deals in violence and death. Not a life of looking over her shoulder, wondering when the next threat will come.
But I can't let her go, won't let her go, even knowing what I'm taking from her.
The moment passes, and Kiera returns to her seat, still beaming. The conversation continues, lighter now, filled with talk of nurseries and baby names and the future.
Then Kaleb's expression shifts, becoming more serious. "Actually, there's something else I wanted to mention." He looks at Kiera, then at me. "Some of my students at school saw a picture of you two. It was in the newspaper, I think."
Kiera's smile fades slightly. "Oh?"
"Yeah. And apparently…" Kaleb hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "They've heard things. About Emil. The kids are fascinated because they heard he's a very bad man."